Oh when upon each sculptured court,
Where even the wind might not resort, -
O’er which Time passed, of like import
With the wild Arab boys at sport, -
A living face looked in to see:- 35
Oh seemed it not - the spell once broke -
As though the carven warriors woke,
As though the shaft the string forsook,
The cymbals clashed, the chariots shook,
And there was life in Nineveh? 40
On London stones our sun anew
The beast’s recovered shadow threw.
(No shade that plague of darkness knew,
No light, no shade, while older grew
By ages the old earth and sea.) 45
Lo thou! could all thy priests have shown
Such proof to make thy godhead known?
From their dead Past thou liv’st alone;
And still thy shadow is thine own
Even as of yore in Nineveh. 50
That day whereof we keep record,
When near thy city-gates the Lord
Sheltered his Jonah with a gourd,
This sun, (I said) here present, pour’d
Even thus this shadow that I see. 55
This shadow has been shed the same
From sun and moon, - from lamps which came
For prayer, - from fifteen days of flame,
The last, while smouldered to a name
Sardanapalus’ Nineveh. 60
Within thy shadow, haply, once
Sennacherib has knelt, whose sons
Smote him between the altar-stones:
Or pale Semiramis her zones
Of gold, her incense brought to thee, 65
In love for grace, in war for aid:...
Ay, and who else?... till ‘neath thy shade
Within his trenches newly made
Last year the Christian knelt and pray’d -
Not to thy strength - in Nineveh. 70
Now, thou poor god, within this hall
Where the blank windows blind the wall
From pedestal to pedestal,
The kind of light shall on thee fall
Which London takes the day to be: 75
While school-foundations in the act
Of holiday, three files compact,
Shall learn to view thee as a fact
Connected with that zealous tract:
‘Rome, - Babylon and Nineveh.’ 80
Deemed they of this, those worshippers,
When, in some mythic chain of verse
Which man shall not again rehearse,
The faces of thy ministers
Yearned pale with bitter ecstasy? 85
Greece, Egypt, Rome, - did any god
Before whose feet men knelt unshod
Deem that in this unblest abode
Another scarce more unknown god
Should house with him, from Nineveh? 90
Ah! in what quarries lay the stone
From which this pillared pile has grown,
Unto man’s need how long unknown,
Since those thy temples, court and cone,
Rose far in desert history? 95
Ah! what is here that does not lie
All strange to thine awakened eye?
Ah! what is here can testify
(Save that dumb presence of the sky)
Unto thy day and Nineveh? 100
Why, of those mummies in the room
Above, there might indeed have come
One out of Egypt to thy home,
An alien. Nay, but were not some
Of these thine own antiquity? 105
And now, - they and their gods and thou
All relics here together - now
Whose profit? whether bull or cow,
Isis or Ibis, who or how,
Whether of Thebes or Nineveh? 110
The consecrated metals found,
And ivory tablets, underground,
Winged teraphim and creatures crown’d,
When air and daylight filled the mound,
Fell into dust immediately. 115
And even as these, the images
Of awe and worship, — even as these, —
So, smitten with the sun’s increase,
Her glory mouldered and did cease
From immemorial Nineveh.
The day her builders made their halt,
Those cities of the lake of salt
Stood firmly ‘stablished without fault
Made proud with pillars of basalt,
With sardonyx and porphyry.
The day that Jonah bore abroad
To Nineveh the voice of God,
A brackish lake lay in his road,
Where erst Pride fixed her sure abode
As then in royal Nineveh.
The day when he, Pride’s lord and Man’s,
Showed all the kingdoms at a glance
To Him before whose countenance
The years recede, the years advance,
And said, Fall down and worship me: -
‘Mid all the pomp beneath that look,
Then stirred there, haply, some rebuke,
Where to the wind the Salt Pools shook,
And in those tracts, of life forsook,
That knew thee not, O Nineveh!
Delicate harlot! On thy throne
Thou with a world beneath thee prone
In state for ages sat’st alone;
And needs were years and lustres flown
Ere strength of man could vanquish thee:
Whom even thy victor foes must bring,
Still royal, among maids that sing
As with doves’ voices, taboring
Upon their breasts, unto the King, -
A kingly conquest, Nineveh!
... Here woke my thought. The wind’s slow
Had waxed; and like the human play
Of scorn that smiling spreads away,
The sunshine shivered off the day:
The callous wind, it seemed to me,
Swept up the shadow from the ground:
And pale as whom the Fates astound,
The god forlorn stood winged and crown’d:
Within I knew the cry lay bound
Of the dumb soul of Nineveh.
And as I turned, my sense half shut
Still saw the crowds of kerbs and rut
Go past as marshalled to the strut
Of ranks in gypsum quaintly cut.
It seemed in one same pageantry 165
They followed forms which had been erst;
To pass, till on my sight should burst
That future of the best or worst
When some may question which was first,
Of London or of Nineveh. 170
For as that Bull-god once did stand
And watched the burial-clouds of sand,
Till these at last without a hand
Rose o’er his eyes, another land,
And blinded him with destiny: - 175
So may he stand again; till now,
In ships of unknown sail and prow,
Some tribe of the Australian plough
Bear him afar, - a relic now
Of London, not of Nineveh! 180
Or it may chance indeed that when
Man’s age is hoary among men, -
His centuries threescore and ten, -
His furthest childhood shall seem then
More clear than later times may be: 185
Who, finding in this desert place
This form, shall hold us for some race
That walked not in Christ’s lowly ways,
But bowed its pride and vowed its praise
Unto the God of Nineveh. 190
The smile rose first, - anon drew nigh
The thought:... Those heavy wings spread high
So sure of flight, which do not fly;
That set gaze never on the sky;
Those scriptured flanks it cannot see; 195
Its crown, a brow-contracting load;
Its planted feet which trust the sod:...
(So grew the image as I trod:)
O Nineveh, was this thy God, -
Thine also, mighty Nineveh?
MIDDLE POEMS
THE STAFF AND SCRIP
‘Who owns these lands?’ the Pilgrim said.
‘Stranger, Queen Blanchelys.’
‘And who has thus harried them?’ he said.
‘It was Duke Luke did this:
God’s ban be his!’ 5
The Pilgrim said: ‘Where is your house?
I’ll rest there, with your will.’
‘You’ve but to climb these blackened boughs
And you’ll see it over the hill,
For it burns still.’ 10
‘Which road, to seek your Queen?’ said he.
‘Nay, nay, but with some wound
You’ll fly back hither, it may be,
And by your blood i’ the ground
My place be found.’ 15
‘Friend, stay in peace. God keep your head,
And mine, where I will go;
For He is here and there,’ he said.
He passed the hill-side, slow,
And stood below. 20
The Queen sat idle by her loom:
She heard the arras stir,
And looked up sadly: through the room
The sweetness sickened her
Of musk and myrrh. 25
Her women, standing two and two,
In silence combed the fleece.
The pilgrim said, ‘Peace be with you,
Lady;’ and bent his knees.
She answered, ‘Peace.’ 30
Her eyes were like the wave within;
Like water-reeds the poise
Of her soft body, dainty thin;
And like the water’s noise
Her plaintive voice. 35
For him, the stream had never well’d
In desert tracts malign
So sweet; nor had he ever felt
So faint in the sunshine
Of Palestine. 40
Right so, he knew that he saw weep
Each night through every dream
The Queen’s own face, confused in sleep
With visages supreme
Not known to him. 45
‘Lady,’ he said, ‘your lands lie burnt
And waste: to meet your foe
All fear: this I have seen and learnt.
Say that it shall be so,
And I will go.’ 50
She gazed at him. ‘Your cause is just,
For I have heard the same:’
He said: ‘God’s strength shall be my trust.
Fall it to good or grame,
’Tis in His name.’ 55
‘Sir, you are thanked. My cause is dead.
Why should you toil to break
A grave, and fall therein?’ she said.
He did not pause but spake:
‘For my vow’s sake.’ 60
‘Can such vows be, Sir - to God’s ear,
Not to God’s will?’
‘My vow
Remains: God heard me there as here,’
He said with reverent brow,
‘Both then and now.’ 65
They gazed together, he and she,
The minute while he spoke;
And when he ceased, she suddenly
Looked round upon her folk
As though she woke. 70
‘Fight, Sir,’ she said: ‘my prayers in pain
Shall be your fellowship.’
He whispered one among her train, -
‘To-morrow bid her keep
This staff and scrip.’ 75
She sent him a sharp sword, whose belt
About his body there
As sweet as her own arms he felt.
He kissed its blade, all bare,
Instead of her. 80
She sent him a green banner wrought
With one white lily stem,
To bind his lance with when he fought.
He writ upon the same
And kissed her name. 85
She sent him a white shield, whereon
She bade that he should trace
His will. He blent fair hues that shone,
And in a golden space
He kissed her face. 90
Right so, the sunset skies unseal’d,
Like lands he never knew,
Beyond to-morrow’s battle-field
Lay open out of view
To ride into. 95
Next day till dark the women pray’d:
Nor any might know there
How the fight went: the Queen has bade
That there do come to her
No messenger. 100
Weak now to them the voice o’ the priest
As any trance affords;
And when each anthem failed and ceas’d,
It seemed that the last chords
Still sang the words. 105
Lo, Father, is thine ear inclin’d,
And hath thine angel pass’d?
For these thy watchers now are blind
With vigil, and at last
Dizzy with fast. 110
‘Oh what is the light that shines so red?
’Tis long since the sun set;’
Quoth the youngest to the eldest maid:
“Twas dim but now, and yet
The light is great.’ 115
Quoth the other: “Tis our sight is dazed
That we see flame i’ the air.’
But the Queen held her brows and gazed,
And said, ‘It is the glare
Of torches there.’ 120
‘Oh what are the sounds that rise and spread?
All day it was so still;’
Quoth the youngest to the eldest maid;
‘Unto the furthest hill
The air they fill.’ 125
Quoth the other; “Tis our sense is blurr’d
With all the chants gone by.’
But the Queen held her breath and heard,
And said, ‘It is the cry
Of Victory.’ 130
The first of all the rout was sound,
The next were dust and flame,
And then the horses shook the ground:
And in the thick of them
A still band came. 135
‘Oh what do ye bring out of the fight,
Thus hid beneath these boughs?’
‘Even him, thy conquering guest to-night,
Who yet shall not carouse,
Queen, in thy house.’ 140
‘Uncover ye his face,’ she said.
‘O changed in little space!’
She cried, ‘O pale that was so red!
O God, O God of grace!
Cover his face.’ 145
His sword was broken in his hand
Where he had kissed the blade.
‘O soft steel that could not withstand!
O my hard heart unstayed,
That prayed and prayed!’ 150
His bloodied banner crossed his mouth
Where he had kissed her name.
‘O east, and west, and north, and south,
Fair flew my web, for shame,
To guide Death’s aim!’ 155
The tints were shredded from his shield
Where he had kissed her face.
Oh, of all gifts that I could yield,
Death only keeps its place,
My gift and grace!’ 160
Then stepped a damsel to her side,
And spoke, and needs must weep:
‘For his sake, lady, if he died,
He prayed of thee to keep
This staff and scrip. 165
That night they hung above her bed,
Till morning wet with tears.
Year after year above her head
Her bed his to
ken wears,
Five years, ten years. 170
That night the passion of her grief
Shook them as there they hung.
Each year the wind that shed the leaf
Shook them and in its tongue
A message flung. 175
And once she woke with a clear mind
That letters writ to calm
Her soul lay in the scrip; to find
Only a torpid balm
And dust of palm. 180
They shook far off with palace sport
When joust and dance were rife;
And the hunt shook them from the court;
For hers, in peace or strife,
Was a Queen’s life. 185
A Queen’s death now: as now they shake
To gusts in chapel dim,-
Hung where she sleeps, not seen to wake,
(Carved lovely white and slim,)
With them by him. 190
Stand up to-day, still armed, with her,
Good knight, before His brow
Who then as now was here and there,
Who had in mind thy vow
Then even as now. 195
The lists are set in Heaven to-day,
The bright pavilions shine;
Fair hangs thy shield, and none gainsay;
The trumpets sound in sign
That she is thine. 200
Not tithed with days’ and years’ decrease
He pays thy wage He owed,
But with imperishable peace
Here in His own abode,
Thy jealous God. 205
SUDDEN LIGHT
I have been here before,
But when or how I cannot tell:
I know the grass beyond the door,
The sweet keen smell,
The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. 5
You have been mine before, -
How long ago I may not know:
But just when at that swallow’s soar
Your neck turned so,
Some veil did fall, - I knew it all of yore. 10
Then, now, - perchance again!...
O round mine eyes your tresses shake!
Shall we not lie as we have lain
Thus for Love’s sake,
And sleep, and wake, yet never break the chain? 15
THE PORTRAIT
This is her picture as she was:
It seems a thing to wonder on,
As though mine image in the glass
Should tarry when myself am gone.
I gaze until she seems to stir, - 5
Until mine eyes almost aver
That now, even now, the sweet lips part
To breathe the words of the sweet heart: -
And yet the earth is over her.
Alas! even such the thin-drawn ray 10
That makes the prison-depths more rude, -
The drip of water night and day
Giving a tongue to solitude.
Yet this, of all love’s perfect prize,
Remains; save what in mournful guise 15
Complete Poetical Works of Dante Gabriel Rossetti Page 5